Fallen, Together
by Khaleesi221B
Summary: They meet again, after so long. And nothing and no one can tear them apart. Sherlock and John as fallen angels. A bit dark. Johnlock.


_I got the idea after reading __**Shining Like Dark Stars**__ by __**TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel**__ on AO3._

_Yes, I'm back with more Johnlock because my latest drabble __**Strength**__ is not really satisfactory. I hope this one-shot is not bad. :)_

_The story is unbeta'd and English is not my native language, so there might be mistakes._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

_I will find you._

That was their promise to each other. A promise that was fulfilled many years after.

* * *

Sherlock Holmes meets John Watson in St. Bart's one day. He is in the middle of an experiment, but for the first time it does not even matter. Because he _knows_.

The other man, the army doctor back from Afghanistan, is shorter than him. He has ashy blonde hair. His eyes are blue or grey - depends on the light on them. There are shadows at his back that almost resemble wings. And that is exactly what they are. This man is a fallen angel. The fallen angel who has promised to find Sherlock.

John looks at him. His eyes widen, and then a laughter escapes his lips. It is a delighted, incredulous laughter, a laughter of happiness and relief. His eyes are shining brightly with joy, and Sherlock knows that he knows.

"Where have you been all my life?" the shorter man laughs. Sherlock smiles; only the two of them know that John is being literal.

"Waiting for you."

"Um, do you know each other?" a mystified Mike Stamford asks.

"Nope," the two fallen angels reply at the same time.

Sherlock holds out his hand. "Sherlock Holmes," he introduces himself.

The other man takes his hand and says, "John Watson."

They shake hands. The touch is electrifying. Mike cannot feel it, but they can. Their true natures come into contact for a moment, for the first time after so long. There is no mistaking each other, but quite honestly they do not need to touch in order to know. They would recognise each other anywhere and in any form.

"So, you're looking for a flat mate," says Sherlock. "Got my eyes on a nice little place in central London. Together we ought to be able to afford it."

Sherlock realises that they are still holding hands, that they have been holding hands for quite some time now. He doesn't care, though. _He_ is here. Sherlock is not alone anymore. He will not be alone again.

"We've only just met, and you want me to rent a place with you?" John asks incredulously.

Sherlock blinks several times. Doesn't John want to be with him? They have been apart for so long. Isn't he happy that they have met again?

"Um - yes," he says hesitantly.

John's smile widens. "Great!" he says. "When will we go see it?"

Sherlock's heart starts beating again. He smiles back. "Tomorrow at seven?"

"Brilliant."

"Then we can go have dinner. I know a great place. Actually, I know every place."

John smiles at Sherlock's arrogance. "Are you asking me out on a date?" he teases.

"Call it what you like," Sherlock replies, feigning indifference. "Now - sorry, got to dash. I think I left my riding crop at the mortuary. Until tomorrow, John; 221B Baker Street."

He winks at John and swans off in a swirl of coat, leaving John grinning like a fool and Molly and Mike looking dumbfounded.

* * *

After checking the flat and deciding that they will move in together (there has been no doubt about that), Sherlock and John go on their maybe-a-date. It goes brilliantly. Sherlock learns all about John Watson. Of course he has already deduced most of it, yet he enjoys listening to the man before him as he shares his stories.

In return, Sherlock tells him all about being a consulting detective - the only one there is; he has invented the job - and he can see that John is enthralled. He asks all the right questions and makes amusing comments at the right time. His eyes are honest and warm, a deep ocean that Sherlock can drown in.

Time goes by without them noticing. Time does not matter anymore, not now that they are together.

They leave the restaurant. They are not ready to part yet, not now that they have found each other. They spend half the night wandering London. It seems far more beautiful now that they explore it together.

In the end, they go to separate ways, although that is the last thing they want to do.

However, the next day John is going to move in.

* * *

When Sherlock first turns up with John at a crime scene, the reactions are not the best. Not that either of them cares.

Lestrade arches an eyebrow and asks who the stranger is.

Donovan is more lively. "No way! The freak's got a boyfriend!"

Lestrade tells Sherlock that he should not bring dates to crime scenes. Sherlock smiles and explains that John is there to assist him.

And John is actually helpful, offering his professional opinion as Sherlock appraises the scene after closing the door right at the moron Anderson's face.

* * *

After that, there is no stopping them. The two of them run around London solving crimes. John is, as always, there for Sherlock; he uses a gun now instead of a flaming sword, but it is still the same.

They need each other. And now that they have found one another, their lives have a meaning. It's all adventure and excitement.

No one knows what they truly are. No one can see it.

Mycroft, Sherlock's brother, does not see it when he abducts John. Sherlock wonders what his older brother thinks of John. The latter might look ordinary and innocent, but he is not. He is more dangerous than he looks.

* * *

Moriarty.

Sherlock is excited. He wants to know who Moriarty is, what he does, why he does what he does.

John is hesitant and reluctant. However, he knows that he can't prevent Sherlock from trying to solve all the puzzles. It's Sherlock's nature, and it cannot change.

Sherlock has no intention of meeting Moriarty without John, but John does not come home.

Sherlock waits at the swimming pool, his anticipation rising. He wants to see the face of his ingenius fan.

Instead he sees John. As he realises that Moriarty has chosen John as his next victim, his temper roars like a wild beast trapped in his rib cage, like an inferno.

John is determined. His eyes, no longer warm and kind, are filled with steely fury. The shadows behind him loom threateningly as Moriarty walks out. The fool can't see them. He can't see anything, just like everyone else.

"Is that a British Browning L9A1 in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?"

The insanity in his eyes makes Moriarty look almost like a demon. However, he is not a supernatural being. He is just a man who plays with powers far greater than his own. He does not see what sort of creatures he has angered. He does not see the spread wings that indicate danger and anger.

Sherlock feels the fire burst in life inside him, dark and terrible, ready to destroy. He sees John nod.

Moriarty's screams are terrible and horrific as the flames consume him from the inside out, licking his life away. Sherlock and John just stand there, two shadows in the night. The snipers flee.

Sherlock laughs, savage and free. He is so drunk on the sight of the burning man - the man who wanted to kill John - that he grabs the shorter man and gives him a kiss that leaves both of them breathless. John responds with equal fervor, clinging to the taller man as though for dear life. When they break the kiss, Moriarty is burnt to crisp.

Life is good.

* * *

_Ta-da! That's it, people. I really enjoyed writing it. I hope you enjoyed reading it. if so, you know what to do. Feedback is love! x _


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